Threnody
by whistle.the.silver
Summary: Hermione and Fleur mark the winter solstice together after an eventful year. A rough sequel to Witnessed Here in Time and Blood and Ivory and Horn.


Well, after a bit of a break, I'm back with a little tale. It was written as a gift for the wonderful indiefox, who suggested sticking it up where other Fleurmione loving folk could see it.

I hope you all enjoy this and are having a restful end of year. Best wishes for 2015!

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><p>On the morning upon which our story begins, Hermione had been asked to arrive at Fleur's before dawn to ensure they had enough time to ready themselves. It wasn't a particularly onerous request, not during the short December days. She woke only slightly earlier than usual and wrapped herself in warm clothes, feeling ridiculous as she applied layer after cumbersome layer in the warmth of her bedroom. Embers glowed in the Gryffindor common room hearth, casting warm light and warmer shadows as she stole through.<p>

The corridors were empty. Even the ghosts had better places to be. The windows were dark, panes indistinguishable from the lead binding them together. Here and there great tapestries and drapes fluttered softly, moved by icy drafts.

She moved with the determination and certainty of one slightly unsure of her ultimate destination but eager to reach it. The foyer before the great hall was silent and empty, portraits asleep and poltergeists absent as she made her way to the great doors of Hogwarts. She opened the wicket, leaving the great scarred behemoths settled on their hinges, nestled in their locks.

The brightness took her aback. She blinked, unsure if she'd overslept somehow. Her eyes adjusted to the great, silver moon hanging in the sky. Not quite full, its radiance was enough to stop her in her tracks, to lift her face.

It was a cold light, chilling any bare skin it touched. As it perished, it burned. Her breath was stolen from her, only to curl in wisps and clouds from her stinging nose. Her eyes watered and her cheeks were pinched. It felt as though she'd wandered into some ancient, timeless place where innovations such as lanterns and street lights were unthinkable. Despite the chill, she paused to fill her lungs, the air crisp and refreshing. The scent of frost and the tang of ice sent pleasant shivers down her spine and raised goosebumps on her arms.

The moon was glorious as it fought the dark sky. It managed to carve a small niche for itself but beyond that, the stars reigned supreme. Their light was breath taking in the cold silence before the dawn. Constellations ceased to matter, handfuls of diamonds cast carelessly upon the richest navy velvet.

She breathed once more. The land was gripped by winter, by its scents and sights. As she hurried down the path, frost crackled and popped beneath her boots. Stalks of grass encroaching on the path sat in brittle expectation of their own demise. Autumn yellow beneath the sheen of winter silver. Autumn's promise lost in the dark, silent stretch of night as she walked.

A candle burned in a window, golden in a silver land. Veils of smoke wafted lazily from the chimney of the little cottage, ponderous and unhurried. She clenched her cold hands, speeding her steps over the hard ground in anticipation of comfort.

The door opened, a figure in dark blue emerging. Fleur closed the door and turned to the path, a great smile splitting her features as she saw her lover approach. She moved quickly over the frosty path.

They met with smiles and reddened cheeks. One lifted an eyebrow, affected affront, in order to elicit a kiss and a dreadfully false apology. The other kissed cold cheeks without complaint.

"Fleur," Hermione chuckled. "Come along. We'll be late."

"The sun can surely wait," Fleur replied, stealing another kiss. "It wouldn't dare rise without us."

Hermione laughed and ducked out of Fleur's loose embrace, catching her hand as she went. She tugged her out of the garden onto the path. That was as far as she knew to go, however.

"Where are we going?"

"To the hill behind the harts' wood."

"Well, we'd better hurry, that's quite a walk."

They walked in silence, gloved hands clasped together. Words were unnecessary, almost sacrilegious in the solemn darkness. The world was asleep around them, content to leave them to their own devices. Their path took them through a small outcropping of the forbidden forest, up a rise carpeted by fallen leaves. Where the bare trees were thick, and frost had not fallen, the leaves were soft with decay and released a rich, earthy scent. They emerged to a sky lightening, the stars beginning to disperse. The moon lit their way to a stack of firewood, neatly arranged beside a stone lined pit.

Fleur smiled as she reclaimed her hand, drawing a handkerchief out of her pocket. She shook it out, satisfied to see it expand to many times its original size. She spread the tartan blanket on the stiff grass, drawing her wand to cast a charm to prevent the chill of the frozen ground seeping through.

She sat, settling herself before motioning for her lover to join her. Hermione settled herself between Fleur's legs, turning her face to steal a kiss before leaning back into her.

Fleur curled herself into Hermione's back, her chin sitting on a shoulder and her knees around Hermione's hips. She turned her cheek into Fleur's shoulder, closing her eyes.

"Remind me why we're here," she said.

"To guard the sun," Fleur replied. "This is the most dangerous day of the year." Her breath was warm in Hermione's hair, her words low and rich. She was using what Hermione (very privately) thought of as her story telling voice. Her words were measured, doled out at a more leisurely pace than was her wont.

"The days have been getting shorter and shorter. The sun shows her face with great reluctance, when permitted by the clouds. She barely dares lift herself above the horizon. The night closes in earlier every evening.

"The earth perishes without her warmth, her nourishing light. The ground hardens and the trees are bare. The last berries have been stripped by the birds. The larder empties and we cannot refill it. The farmers slaughter those animals they cannot feed.

"Life grinds to a slow halt and will cease entirely if she does not return. So we sit with her today, to remind her that she is precious and beloved." She paused, tightening her grip around Hermione's waist and burying her face into the nape of her neck. "To offer her gifts and tell her what we have done in her light during the last year."

"We've done a lot, this year," Hermione said, quietly. "And not all of it bears repeating."

She lifted her head and met Fleur's gaze, as best she could in the gloom. Moonlight shone in her eyes, along with sorrow and pathos.

"It has not always been easy, but you accomplished great things, Hermione."

She nodded, banishing those unpleasant memories for the moment. She leaned forward and kissed Fleur slowly. "This year brought me to you, Fleur. Though it has to be said that my very favourite things," she felt a smile cross her lips and saw Fleur match it, "were not done in her light."

Fleur chuckled. "That's why we remain awake tonight."

"All night?"

"All night." There was a hint of wickedness to Fleur's smile that filled her with giddy joy and she claimed another playful kiss.

"Come now, we'll miss the dawn."

They settled into their embrace, their breath still steaming in the frosty air. They existed in an island of warmth and love, neither feeling even a hint of a chill.

The sky brightened slowly, the last stars fading until only the moon and Venus hung in the sky. Birds slowly, reluctantly, began to lift their voices and a breath of wind rattled the last few beech leaves stubbornly clinging to a tree on the edge of the woods. The horizon was jagged and dramatic, like waves frozen in the midst of a storm. Lavender and pink seeped into the sky, bleeding light into the world. A few lonely wisps of cloud caught the vanguard of the sun's brilliance, golden light brightening their bellies in eager anticipation.

Between one breath and the next, the sun appeared. From their vantage point, she was cupped by two hills of roughly the same height. They were smoother than many of the other peaks, a gentle cradle to ease the sun into the sky. Blood red as she entered the frozen world and brilliant orange as she rose, it soon became unbearable to watch her ascent.

The mountains and valleys around them were luminous beneath their hoarfrost, proudly wearing winter's mantle as their honoured guest entered the world. The mountains were capped with snow, unblemished and pristine. Everything the light touched glistened and shone beneath the light, pristine and radiant.

"So it begins."

Fleur squeezed her again and stood, stretching under her layers before turning to the little stack of firewood. She lit a fire quickly, removing her gloves to warm her fingers in the fragrant smoke. "And now we sit, ma loutre. The sun has graced us with her presence and we must pay our respects."

Hermione smiled and moved to sit beside Fleur, facing the fire. The sun, low and glaring, cast long blue shadows. The northern facing slopes of the hills around them were untouched, dim and icy. She tugged a glove off and took Fleur's hand, lacing their fingers together. Fleur smiled at her and tucked their joined hands beneath a fold of her cloak. She rubbed her thumb and forefinger over the flesh below Hermione's thumb, contented and silent.

They were, Hermione knew, supposed to reflect on the year behind them. She'd read about the Veela solstice rite and knew its purpose. But the silence around them, broken only by the hiss and crackle of the fire, was deep and comforting. The stillness was glorious. Her world was so busy, filled with bustle and frantic dashes that she drank in the peace that settled over her. Her shoulders relaxed and she leaned more fully against Fleur.

Fleur, well versed in gauging her moods, remained quiet.

"You do this with your family, normally," Hermione said, after a long while.

"Yes. We sit at the bottom of the garden." She chuckled. "My father finds the entire practice quite amusing."

Hermione was quiet again, gnawing her lip as she thought.

"Is it alright for us to be here? I mean, should you be somewhere else? With the tribe or with your family?"

Fleur stiffened for a moment, then inhaled. "I am where I should be." She paused, shifted herself beside Hermione. "You don't mind?"

Hermione sighed. "I'm happy to sit with you, no matter what day of the year."

Fleur buried her face into Hermione's neck, finding a gap between collar and cap and pressing a slow, reverent kiss to it. The fire cracked before them and Hermione bowed her head, peppered all the way with kisses.

"It's true," Fleur murmured, "I have never done this without my family. But, that is the way of things, no?"

Hermione closed her eyes, old pain flaring in her chest, stealing her breath. She lifted her spare hand and rubbed her eyes.

"I won't see my parents this Christmas, you know," she said, peeking up at Fleur from beneath her eyelashes. "Or, if I see them, it won't be for long. I certainly won't be heading home."

Fleur released her hand, to slip her arm around Hermione's shoulders. She pressed a kiss to her temple. "I'm so sorry."

"It's fine," she said, softly. "Just… when you're small, the thought that your family could change never even crosses your mind. Yet here we are."

"We are," Fleur agreed. "And our family changes as we grow. We gain members. We make our own."

Hermione nodded, stooping her head for a moment. "Changes for the better, I think."

Fleur laughed quietly. "Changes for us, as we need it. No better, no worse." Fleur lifted her chin and kissed her, her breath warm and sweet. Unhurried and gentle. Hermione drank in the affection and love, slipping her hands into the cosy folds of Fleur's cloak.

They drew back, breathless and flushed, sharing smiles and fond touches.

"Besides," Fleur said, laughter perched behind her words. "It's better that we aren't with the tribe. Traditionally, this rite is performed sky clad!"

The sun continued to climb, though its light failed to break the frost's grip on the world around them. Every bump and hummock, every skeletal tree and naked hedge cast long shadows in the strange midwinter light. The fire crackled, mature and crimson in the centre. Hermione pulled some sandwiches out of her beaded bag and they ate with great relish.

"I'm telling you," Fleur said, regarding the thick cuts of floury white bread with such adoration that Hermione was tempted to give them some time alone. "Food always tastes better outside. The mere act of eating outdoors uplifts even humble morsels to the very finest cuisine."

Hermione nibbled a piece of cheese and lifted an eyebrow. "If you refer to my sandwiches as humble morsels again, I'll be happy to give them to someone else."

Fleur's eyes widened comically, a very specific sort of worry blooming. It was the face of someone expecting that they were now in Trouble, the sort of trouble that could see them sleeping on a couch. Hermione's resolve broke and she began to laugh, touching Fleur's cheek.

"I love that silly look you get on your face."

Fleur blinked and inhaled, straightening her back in an effort to reclaim her tattered dignity.

"Well, I love your sandwiches."

Hermione was about to reply when they heard footsteps on the ground. They turned to see Neville and Luna, bundled against the cold, approach. They stood and greeted them, offering kisses and hugs.

"Oh, your fire is wonderful," Luna sighed, holding out her hands to its warmth. "Delightful."

"Proper nice," Neville agreed, sitting down. "So this is it, eh? We just sit around the fire?"

"More or less," Fleur said. "In the camp, they'll have lit a huge bonfire. There'll be singing and dancing. Probably a lot of alcohol…"

Neville seemed intrigued and Luna clasped her hands under the chin. "They must be so beautiful. Imagine!"

Judging by the slightly dreamy look on Neville's face, he was doing precisely that. Hermione settled back down, watching Fleur heap more sticks on the fire. She wondered what she'd look like, pale skin and long legs caught between the slanting sunlight and the strobe of a great fire. She'd noticed that Fleur moved as she always did when nude, without shame or hesitation. She herself tended to skitter apologetically, timid and self-conscious. Fleur stretched her arms over her head again, back cracking as she went. In Hermione's mind's eye, she was bathed in starlight, steam curling from her skin.

She returned to the present when Fleur sat beside her, taking her hand once more, feeling a little flush warm her cheeks.

"Well, though plenty of the girls would be _delighted_ to see you," Luna teased, "it's not one for men, is it Fleur?"

Neville blushed and shook his head. Fleur laughed and confirmed Luna's guess. Hermione smiled at Neville, who managed to look both mortified and slightly proud. He had caught the eye of several of the younger warriors, who were convinced he was the most dashing hero they'd ever seen, and was still quite unsure of how to cope with this attention.

Hermione was about to speak when a shout called out. Ginny bounded up the hill, followed at a much more sedate pace by Bill and Harry, the latter of whom had an incredibly well bundled Teddy in his arms. More greetings ensued and not a small amount of delighted chaos as they arranged themselves around the fire. Hermione found herself beside Harry and Teddy, making faces at the little boy.

He reached out for some of the hair that had managed to escape from between her hat and scarf and she gently discouraged him. She conjured a rattle for him instead, though regretted it minutes later when he bopped Harry on the nose with some force.

"Ow! Teddy, don't hit me." Harry lifted him to eye level, grinning at him like a loon. "Survived bloody Tom Riddle only to be taken down by this terror?"

Bill chuckled and Neville almost choked on his own breath. Hermione glared at her friend before taking Teddy from him. "Come along Teddy, never mind this silly man and his awful jokes."

Harry appeared slightly contrite, more so when Ginny thumped him in the shoulder. Fleur appeared at her side grinning at Teddy. Hermione leaned into her and allowed herself to be used as a climbing frame as the little boy attempted to crawl to Fleur.

"Well, it's been a busy year," Bill said, scratching his chin. He'd begun to grow a beard, much to Fleur's horror.

"Yeah," Ginny agreed. "Kept us going."

"I hope it's a little bit more peaceful this year," Luna said. "Though we had some grand times, didn't we?"

Hermione couldn't stop the thought from flitting through her head that the grand times had been interspersed with kidnapping, torture, hunger, fear and agonising uncertainty. There'd been plenty of times when she doubted that she'd survive. She tightened her grip on Fleur's hand and her girlfriend, the blessed creature, pressed a chaste kiss to her temple.

"We lost a lot," Harry said, sadly but calmly. "But we gained a lot. We're here and the world is definitely a better place now than it was. When Teddy grows up, it'll all just be stories. He and his friends will learn about them and probably write about them in exams but they'll never _know_ what it was like."

"Thank goodness," Ginny said, firmly, earning a vigorous nod from Harry. "Well, I for one hope to just pass the bloody exams."

"And to win the Quidditch Cup," Luna reminded.

"That goes without saying," Ginny agreed, crossing her arms.

"We're at a disadvantage this year though," Luna sighed. "With Hermione in our class now, we're all going to look completely brainless."

Neville chuckled. "Now you know how I felt." Harry nodded, though Hermione knew bloody well that he was recalling the single occasion when he'd scored more highly in an exam.

"Well, I want to get the society up and running," Bill said.

"And to shave," Fleur added. "In fact, do it now. We'll burn it as an offering."

"I'm not shaving," Bill said, firmly.

"You look like a mangy fox!"

"It will take time for it to fill out properly," Bill said, somewhat defensively. "It's only a bit patchy."

"It's dreadful. I demand it goes."

Bill smiled, lifting his scruffy chin. "Well, you're not my wife anymore. You can't tell me what to do!"

"Then I'm finding you a husband who _can_."

"Did they bicker this much when they _were_ married?" Neville asked, looking slightly perplexed.

Hermione laughed. "Not at all. They seemed to have a perfect marriage."

Ginny grinned at her. "Well, luckily for you, that wasn't quite the case. "

Bill laughed at that. "Well, Hermione, take note. Fleur makes a most excellent wife."

Despite the prickling heat of the fire, despite the pinching cold behind her, Hermione was sure that the blush that ensued from that was visible from Hogwarts itself.

The sun began to sink towards the horizon once more, the sky taking on shades of delicate pink and rich lavender. They'd laughed and joked throughout the day and also passed more solemn and quiet moments remembering the dead. They bore scars, each and every one of them, but Hermione could see them healing, slowly but surely. The dark humour chased away the enormity of what they'd faced, broke it down into smaller chunks for easier digestion. Shadows lurked still, at the edges of smiles and behind weary eyes, but the warmth of friendship and of love was banishing them.

Teddy was snoozing against Bill's broad chest, snoring softly. Harry and Ginny were wrapped in each other's arms, lost in their own little private moment. Luna was braiding dry grass, passing the ropes onto Fleur, who was making wreaths from fir and holly. Neville had wandered off to find some mistletoe and Hermione found herself staring into the glowing embers.

The sun's radiance began to dim, the sky darkening once more. The moon, pale and blue, appeared ghostly. The evening star shone proudly once more, a brilliant speck high above the world. The shadows around them lengthened even more, blue stealing over white. The birds returned to their roosts, silent now in the twilight. Neville returned, shaking the chill from his shoulders. Frost was falling again, tightening its grip once more.

He handed the plant to Fleur, who used her knife to separate different sprigs. She worked efficiently, winding them into the wreath. The white berries stood in stark contrast to the blood red of those of the holly. She took a roll of twine from her pocket and began cutting it into lengths.

The group took their string in silence before starting to rummage in pockets and bags. Harry stood first, taking a white feather out of his pocket. It was speckled at the end and sadness clutched at Hermione's heart. Harry tied the feather to the wreath and sat back down.

Luna stood next, with a small misshapen woollen hat. Ginny followed with a worn yellow box, purple w's embossed on the front. Bill handed Teddy to Harry and added a green carnation. Luna smiled at him and he slung a gentle arm over her shoulders. Neville added a single, perfect flower that Hermione couldn't name but was certain grew on mountain slopes in Italy.

Harry stood again, holding Teddy on his hip and stooping to the wreath. Fleur helped him to secure a photograph, her smile wistful as she watched the tiny figures wave up at them. She raised her beautiful crystalline eyes to Hermione's own and regarded her seriously.

Hermione approached, her hands chilled without gloves and so far from the fire. She fumbled slightly as she took a round pebble with a hole in the centre from her pocket. It had been carved by the ocean half a world away, by relentless tides beneath a scorching sun.

Fleur, solemn and unearthly in the fading light of the sinking sun, took out a branch of dark wood with navy berries nestle amongst sharp thorns. Her eyes met Hermione's and a small, secretive smile tugged her lips as she secured the sloes. The warmth of Hermione's wand against her forearm left her in no doubt as to the branch's provenance

The sun kissed the mountains once more, hovering beneath a fiery veil. The sky behind them was darkening, stars and moon showing their proud faces. Fleur stood, her hair escaping from beneath her scarf to drift around her shoulders. Ethereal, Hermione found herself suddenly reminded of the fact that parts of Fleur were not quite human. Fleur spoke, holding the wreath and facing the setting sun.

"Do not leave. Do not hide below the earth forever. Do not leave those who fear the endless night without your light, without your warmth.

"Do not leave. Do not turn from the world altogether. Do not leave us to mourn through hopeless days without your peace, without your comfort.

"Do not leave. Do not scorn these sad few wretches. Do not leave the dark to cover the unloved world without your wit, without your wisdom.

"Or if you leave, do not tarry long, oh gilded mother. Return from beneath the roots of the tired world with your love, with your blessing."

The sun sank below the horizon, burning the sky as it went. Wisps of high cloud caught the last of its brilliance, shining over powder blue. A last few birds called, high and mournful on the thin winter air. Though the sky was bright above the horizon, darkness spread rapidly, leaching light from the sky. Robin's egg blushed with rosy streaks began to darken to navy speckled with silver light.

"We leave this, memory and wish. Sorrow and joy. Endings and beginnings. We offer our pain and our delight. We offer our burdens and our strong shoulders. We, who have stayed with you today implore you to do the same tomorrow."

Fleur laid the wreath on the cold ground, away from the warmth of the fire. She was silent for a long moment, the scent of magic thick around them. Hermione's heart raced as she watched, her mind turning to the memory of pounding waves and spinning stars. For a moment, fear that Fleur would simply vanish with the last rays of sunlight gripped her, seizing her throat in a firm grip. She took half a step forward, her hands trembling.

But Fleur turned, her eyes finding her own immediately. She walked towards her and held out a hand.

"What do we do now?" Neville asked, his voice hushed and reverent.

"Now, we await her return."

Harry and Teddy departed shortly after nightfall, warmly wishing those assembled well. Teddy expressed his felicitations with enthusiastic head butts, to universal amusement. Luna, Neville and Ginny lasted a bit longer but were bound by curfew. They left beneath a cloud of chatter, voices slightly awed by what the ritual in which they'd partaken.

Bill sat staring into the fire, his pale eyes and long hair reflecting the flames beautifully. Hermione and Fleur had settled themselves into a close embrace.

"The night watch is important, too?" Bill asked.

"It is," Fleur confirmed. "But not for children. I wasn't allowed to stay up until I was fifteen."

Bill chuckled. "Those lot hardly think themselves children."

Hermione shrugged. "No, but we're still living in Hogwarts. We have to abide by their rules."

"You clearly have a special dispensation," Bill teased.

"She does," a new voice announced. Headmistress McGonagall unexpectedly stepped into the firelight, lost in layers of tartan. "I admit, the customs and practices of the Veela continue to amaze and perplex me in equal measure. This, however, makes great sense to me."

She sat primly, causing Fleur and Hermione to loosen their embrace somewhat, appearing reginal beside the crackling fire. She reached into the depths of her cloak, drawing out a flask and a dainty tea set. She set the cups and saucers on the blanket, taking care with the sugar bowl.

She poured, wisps of steam rising to fog her spectacles. She passed the cups around and Hermione was quite surprised to realise that she hadn't been served tea.

"There is a time and a place for a drop of punch," she said, having clearly seen Hermione's surprise. "And if you can think of a better one, please let me know."

Bill sipped his and hummed with satisfaction. "I can't imagine one. Cheers, headmistress."

They clinked the china cups together before sipping the sweet, hearty brew. Hermione coughed a bit, startled by the strength.

"I was once lucky enough to find myself in an old tomb on the morning of the solstice," McGonagall said after a few long moments. "The muggle archaeologists had partially excavated it, but hadn't realised what could be seen within. I sat, with my dear Elphinstone in that musty, dark place. The scent of old bone was overwhelming, and the air was completely dry in the chamber. The light fluttered up the path like molten gold or ripe wheat in the wind.

"We sat in that light, surrounded by ancient inscriptions and secrets. It touched the back wall, just for a few minutes, before it retreated down the passage. I will never forget that morning, not as long as I live."

Hermione sipped her punch. It was rare to hear her teacher speak of her husband, strange to be reminded that she was a widow. She had loved him dearly and lost him many years previous. How full life can be, she mused. How quickly those things that matter may be lost.

"So I understand why one would wish to mark the occasion. I do not, however, quite understand how one could stand to sit out in the cold all day."

"It could be raining," Fleur offered, shrugging. "We were lucky today."

McGonagall smiled, an odd little grin, before agreeing.

McGonagall left once the flask (which had clearly been enchanted because she refilled their cups many times) was empty, bidding them a fond farewell. Bill yawned as she stood and begged to take his leave as well. They bid their friends farewell, Bill departing with sleepy eyes.

They found themselves alone, surprised to realise that it was almost midnight. Hermione stifled a yawn, earning a gentle smile from Fleur.

"You're tired."

"I can't be the only one."

"No," Fleur murmured, kissing her softly. "But I will be alright. Sleep, ma loutre."

Hermione kissed her back, a smile stretching her cheeks. "Hmm. Sleep sounds lovely, but what a waste of such a beautiful night."

"Especially," Fleur drawled, nipping on her lower lip, "not when I have letter you wrote wishing that we had a longer night!"

Hermione giggled, her cheeks warming. "I did?"

"Don't be coy, you left the note in a book!"

Hermione sighed as Fleur kissed her throat. "Oh Fleur, anyone could come up here."

"Could they now?" Fleur drew back, her eyes sparkling in the firelight. "And there is no way to stop them? To maintain our privacy?"

Hermione laughed and pushed Fleur's shoulder, following her to lie together on the tartan rug. "Hush."

Hermione dozed, perhaps for an hour during the darkest part of the night. Fleur sat in vigil above her, stroking her hair soothingly. She sang snatches of lullabies, her voice soft in the moonlight. The fire burned low, down to its embers, but it didn't risk extinguishing.

Fleur moved to dress herself, more concerned with the chance of someone happening upon them than by the cold. She nudged Hermione awake, admiring the play of dim light along her pale skin. She opened dark eyes, smiling shyly as she rubbed the sleep from them. She shimmied back into her robes with a chagrined expression, half pleased and half mortified.

"Imagine," she said after a moment, "when we can have a bed away from Hogwarts. A nice house where we can actually, you know, stay inside."

Fleur settled her hands on Hermione's hips, cupping the bony prominence there in her palm. "You are beautiful under starlight, ma loutre."

Hermione flushed, ducking her face. "Not like you. It catches in your hair, in your eyes… It's incredible."

She shifted closer, one chilled hand resting against the side of Fleur's neck. "There are times I see you, Fleur, and I'm half convinced you're going to step up into the air. That you're going to vanish like some fairy woman of old."

Fleur laid her hand over Hermione's, clasping it firmly. "Oh, love. I'm not going anywhere." She swallowed, frowning for a moment. "There are times I worry that I'm going to lose you too, to your sorrow. To the past."

Hermione closed her eyes, inhaling deeply. When she opened them, she met Fleur's sympathetic gaze with a certain glassy sheen. "It's hard, sometimes. But I'm trying. Some days are easier than others."

She sighed, gathering herself. "It's been a hard year. There have been days that robbed the heart from me. There have been days where the simplest thing has seemed an arduous, impossible task. There have been days when I wanted nothing more than to be left alone.

"But you," she said, lifting her face, "you have never pushed or pulled. You've met all my bloody stupidity with patience and," she took a stuttering breath, "and love. I know I've been awful and I'm so sorry-"

"Never apologise," Fleur interrupted. "Never. There are few who have faced the trials you have. I love you, Hermione. That will not change. If we face hard times, we face them together."

"I love you too," Hermione murmured pressing her face into Fleur's neck. "Thank you." She breathed deeply, her light frame trembling. "No matter what happens, Fleur, I hope we're here next year, or somewhere like it."

"Really?"

"Really. I mean, it'd take something fairly dramatic to tear me away. I can't even imagine what." Fleur kissed her forehead gently.

"I want to be with you on days like these, for as long as you'll have me. Forever, if you will."

Hermione laughed softly at the idea. "Forever and a day."

The darkest part of the night was well behind them. The sky was lit with a thousand tiny stars and a splendid moon. Dawn and twilight threatened, the fire burning low into its own ashes. Fleur's arms were warm around her, comforting and solid. They'd shared few words during that last hour, both watching the horizon with tired eyes.

Once again, the sun broke her cover between two gentle mountains. But now, instead of a wisp or two, great banks of cloud were illuminated. The scent of snow was stronger than ever, stealing their breath and bringing aching cold to their bones. The fire was dim now, smouldering over the last few logs.

The sky lit the low banks of cloud, dove grey and gentle pink as the sun began its ascent. As before, the blood red head crowned between two sloping hills. The scalding light of a new dawn bathed them both, eagerly watched until it became unbearable. The sky lightened, holding the sun for a minute longer then it had the day before.

Fleur sighed against Hermione's neck, sounding almost relieved. Hermione turned, an incredulous brow raised. "Were you worried that the sun wouldn't rise?"

"Of course not," Fleur scoffed, "how could she restrain herself from seeing you?"

Hermione craned her neck to offer her girlfriend a dubious glance. "Really?"

Fleur shrugged, a blush darkening her cheeks that had little to do with the cold. She was embarrassed, which was rare, and this delighted Hermione somewhat. "Papa joked when I was little that the sun had decided that she'd had enough and wasn't coming back. I was so worried that I almost fainted with relief when the sun rose."

"The sun will always rise," Hermione said, firmly. "It isn't going anywhere."

"Stranger things have happened," Fleur mused, squinting thoughtfully over the hills. "But not today, thankfully."

"No. Not today."

The sun cleared the hills, only to be swallowed by flat grey clouds heavy with snow. They drifted softly, silently into view. Hermione and Fleur stood as the bottom of the sun touched the horizon. Fleur placed the wreath on the dying embers, watching it smoke for a few minutes before it crackled into flame.

"It is done," she said, calmly. "The year is behind us and another stretches before."

Hermione nodded. She stood and watched the wreath burn. The dry pine in it fizzed and popped immediately. Some of the other offerings took much longer, but they all burnt down to ash in the end. Sadness gripped her, but a sweet satisfaction too. Old ghosts were laid to rest and while it would take them a long time to heal, they'd started on the path.

Fleur took her hand, fingers chilly against her own, and drew her away.

"Come now," she said softly. "We will find the future elsewhere. Not here, around burning ashes."

"Elsewhere," Hermione said, tasting the word with relish. "Elsewhere. Forever."

The sun broke behind them, golden and luminous over the frosty ground. Clouds were gathering in the east, dark and heavy with snow. Their little fire burned behind them in its pit and several birds called. Their hands were clasped together, sure and steadfast. They walked down the hill, heading for a little cottage. They knew, fundamentally and with great certainty, that no matter what else faced them, the days ahead would be brighter.


End file.
